


nature points the way

by lgbtdisney



Series: stafou post-movie 'verse [1]
Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Angst, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, also everyone being respectful and calling adam 'the prince/adam' and not the beast?? yes!!, but for the most part i actually think it's fluffy?, but let's just add the angst tag to be sure, charismatic when he tries but most of the time his humanity is still visible, gaston is mentioned, heavily, i imagine stanley to be the type of guy to go out on a limb but still be nervous about it all, i would tag the animated vers. but i haven't seen it in forever ;;, lefou getting the appreciation and affection he deserves - rt ur kink, oh well, this occurs about a week after the whole battle in the castle, well at least that's when i assumed the ball/dance took place in the movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 10:22:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10384530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lgbtdisney/pseuds/lgbtdisney
Summary: There was a heartbeat, the ticking of a far-away clock, and then -- “I enjoyed my time with you more than any of the women I’ve danced with.”“Even if I stepped on your toes a few times?” LeFou offered.“Even then.” Stanley said, amused. “You’re so much different than the rest of them.”After his and Stanley's dance at Adam's ball, LeFou finds himself alone on a balcony with his thoughts; though, he doesn't stay like that for long.





	

**Author's Note:**

> so this just came to me in the shower (i'm not even joking... i'm a cliche mess of Human) and i had to write it. granted, it took me hours, but here it is!
> 
> oh, and -- i'm english, so a few of the spellings here are probably different from americanised english (is that even the term? who knows.)

*¤*.¸¸.·´¨»*«´`»*«´¨`·.¸¸.*¤*

LeFou stood at the wall of the balcony he looked out at the courtyard from, festivities continuing to go on in the many rooms of the castle behind him. His hands were placed atop the sandy-coloured stone, what once was grey and must have been cold and decaying before the magical cure that spread miraculously throughout Beast’s -- no, Adam’s -- castle and everything and everyone in it.

Tonight was the night of the ball that Adam was hosting, inviting anyone and everyone he could from Villeneuve both in celebration of the pre-mentioned transformation and, perhaps, Adam’s change of heart; he and Belle looked deeply enamoured with one-another as they danced and while LeFou had never really been something of a professor in the ties of romance to the brain sector, he suspected that Belle brought about a great difference in the prince after the years of trials and tribulations he only heard _slightly_ about from Mrs. Potts -- the woman whom, before the curse was lifted, he had caught from falling from a deep height and who briefly consoled him with the words ‘ _you’re too good for him, anyway_ ’ about Gaston and LeFou’s wavering loyalty before they threw themselves back into the battle of the castle.

Gaston. The name pained LeFou, as did the thought of the man.

He knew what became of his best friend ( _ex-best friend?_ ) after Gaston had ruthlessly parted ways with LeFou; after his and Adam’s showdown on the many turrets of the castle, Gaston fell harshly to his demise. From what LeFou heard (and that was only the smallest of details), the ordeal was grizzly and Gaston had very much likely… _deserved_ what he got coming to him.

That wouldn’t mean, though, that the very utterance of Gaston’s name -- not even that, the very _thought_ \-- wouldn’t feel like a boot-clad foot kicking harshly at his stomach and chest. Despite knowing that Gaston had brought his own death onto himself, what with his prejudice and murderous intentions, LeFou could not simply just _forget_ about his life-long friendship with Gaston, nor could he forget the many days and nights where he thought dreamily about Gaston or the memories that they’d shared together both as adolescents and on their hunting trips.

Gaston had shown his true colours that fateful night of the storm on Adam’s castle; LeFou knew his friend was never of the best temper, but his rage and _passion_ on killing Adam -- LeFou, now, felt ashamed that he had accompanied the man on his rampage, and winced at his compliance because of his more than platonic feelings for his friend and the manipulation that Gaston had done unto him -- was something new altogether. It was the first time LeFou could say he was truly _scared_ by his friend; note, he said _by_ and not _for_. He felt like Adam was not the one to fear as Gaston lead them to the castle on horseback; it was Gaston himself.

Gaston was the real terror that night, not the ‘monster’ that everybody claimed Adam was.

LeFou sighed, glancing down at his hands. They were cold against the evening breeze, but ever so much warmer than the night the curse was broken. He began to make plans for sectors of his life now that it did not revolve around Gaston and inflating his ego.

“LeFou?” came a voice from behind the man. LeFou, of course, turned his head quickly, eyes landing upon Stanley standing in the doorway; this was the man who had swept him off of his feet (while this was figurative in the way Stanley had been in his close proximity and _touched_ him, it also became literal at one point where everyone was choreographed to lift and spin their partners and Stanley ever-so-slightly lifted LeFou off of the ground with a slightly nervous smile; LeFou’s stomach tingled with the feeling of butterflies) during the grand dance he, among many, participated in earlier. 

“Stanley,” LeFou smiled nearly instantly at the sight of him, the aforementioned butterflies returning, but not before getting over his initial shock of his lonely moment being interrupted. He turned his body, now, more towards the other man. “I didn’t know you were there.”

Stanley had his hands in his pockets and walked towards LeFou. He, too, was smiling, a small thing, the corners of his lips _just_ turned up. “I saw you out here alone and I felt the urge to come and speak to you. So I have.”

“Oh.” LeFou said simply; not many people came up to him with the intentions to talk to him and only him. Usually, they found a leeway onto the topic of Gaston. “Why -- why aren’t you inside?” LeFou gestured into the castle as Stanley stepped up to his side. “The festivities --”

“I…” Stanley began, interrupting LeFou and looking like he was thinking about whether to say something or not. He swallowed, looking away and out onto the courtyard; LeFou did the same, turning back to his original place and put his hands on the wall again. “I was more interested in talking to you than any of the other villagers… or the servants… _or_ the... prince.” Stanley said finally after seconds of silence, sounding like it had taken inner strength to admit such a thing.

LeFou’s chest swelled at that as his head turned to face Stanley; somebody interested in him above all other party-goers? No exceptions to that? No catch? It was nearly unbelievable if not for the atmosphere during their dance earlier; if Stanley had not looked at LeFou the way that he did, LeFou would have sworn, internally, that he had some ulterior motive, but now was different… the atmosphere was something unbecoming of just two dance partners, and as for Gaston… well, he was no more.

Stanley didn’t look at him and instead stood looking, wide-eyed and lips pursed like something had stolen the words from his mouth, more intently at the courtyard than before. While LeFou had seen and interacted casually with the man many a time, this was the first time he really had interacted with the man taller than himself and saw more than what could be seen at a casual look. It was now that he was realising how truly handsome the man was, how his bone structure was enviably angled, and how his eyes bore a remarkable resemblance to Adam’s baby blue suit.

LeFou parted his lips to say _something_ , but couldn’t find the words. Instead, he made a defeated ‘ _hm_ ’ sound, eyes casting away from Stanley. He looked at his hands, eyes bearing into the little grooves and creases as he searched for something to say. Perhaps he could go out on a limb? Be a little more… outgoing? After all, Stanley was the one to take charge of their dance, so he probably wasn’t averse to a few words of what could be affection…

“You make for an excellent dance partner.” LeFou said before anything else could stop him, pulse beating harder than he was accustomed to. He snuck a glance at Stanley who looked at LeFou like he couldn’t believe his ears. At being caught during their shared looks, both men’s faces softened awkwardly and they both laughed quietly, looking downwards.

“Thank you.” Stanley replied. “My mother… she taught me. Some years ago.”

“Oh?” LeFou was attentive. “Mine too. Me along with my sister. We were partnered up, obviously, which did lead to a few awkward moments… especially during the more romantic parts of the dance.”

LeFou winced at the memory and he could hear Stanley chuckle. From the corner of his eye, he could see Stanley smiling widely like LeFou had just told the most elaborate and entertaining joke known.

“Maybe that’s why I’m still slightly uncoordinated, even now.” LeFou theorised humorously, attempting to make light of his situation. “To be honest, I have more grace in bar dancing than cotillion. Even you’ve witnessed that.”

“You weren’t terrible. You weren’t bad at all.” Stanley replied quickly but his words came out slow as soon as he spoke them. _Did that make sense?_ Most likely not, knowing LeFou. There was a heartbeat, the ticking of a clock, and then -- “I enjoyed my time with you more than any of the women I’ve danced with.”

“Even if I stepped on your toes a few times?” LeFou offered.

“Even then.” Stanley said, amused. “You’re so much different than the rest of them.”

LeFou nearly froze; those words reached into him and groped at his heart, seizing his stomach in the process. They made him feel special in ways not many things, words or people had ever made him feel before.

“Really?” LeFou asked, looking at the man stood next to him. If LeFou was seeing correctly, he could have sworn that Stanley was closer to him than before.

Stanley looked LeFou. “Yes. You, uh, you felt -- emotionally, to me, I mean --” Stanley stammered and made a gesture and LeFou could see him begin to _blush_ , “-- you felt different. On the inside.”

“I’m… trusting that wasn’t bad…?” LeFou replied, lost for words.

“Apart from my aching stomach, it wasn’t.” Stanley admitted. He gulped. “Not even then, maybe. It was strange.”

LeFou could vouch the exact same.

The conversation died down again and LeFou was itching to bring something up, to coax Stanley into talking; LeFou wanted to talk for hours and, for once, held a sense of self-worth in the presence of a man who was making his heart go faster than a… scared horse.

(Like cotillion, LeFou has never been great at analogies -- if that wasn’t obvious already.)

“Why were you out here all alone?” Stanley asked.

“I was…” LeFou started, “I was thinking.”

“Can I pick at what?” Stanley asked, turning more of his body towards LeFou rather than the balcony wall.

Was now the time for LeFou to open up? Amidst such a nice night, would he want to risk the chance of ruining it by souring the atmosphere?

“No?” Stanley answered himself for LeFou with a questioning tone. His eyes, despite flickering to different directions now and again, were nearly always on LeFou, making LeFou feel a strange and indistinguishable way; like said before, few had ever given him their undivided attention.

But maybe LeFou owed him his emotions after Stanley gave his own part, too.

“The past few weeks.” LeFou supplied, turning himself so he was mirroring Stanley’s stance but keeping one arm on the balcony wall. “I can’t really stop thinking about them. About _that_ night. Even when I try to _sleep_ , it’s all just…” The man made a few gestures with his hands that might have looked a little ridiculous.

Stanley smiled softly at LeFou’s bumbling attitude as soon as he tried to bring out his feelings, but then the smile soon disappeared. “Me too,” he looked down at his feet, hands fidgeting a little. “I feel guiltier than… than a madman.”

“I want the prince to forgive me… forgive _us_ ,” LeFou said, referencing the villagers, “but I can see why he wouldn’t. We nearly destroyed his home… we were on course to destroy _him_.”

Stanley nodded. “And to think, we all went along with what _he_ told us.” There was no need to clarify who ‘ _he_ ’ was; it was loud and clear. “I don’t think I even _properly_ knew what I was fighting for. Looking back, I can't help but feel ashamed… I was just following Gaston blindly like a henchman does.”

And there it was. The kick.

LeFou’s stomach dropped as his hand gripped the stone wall a little harder. He couldn’t truthfully say that his head didn't drop at the sentence, but he soon lifted it up, taking a deep breath.

“I was infatuated,” LeFou said, nearly weakly. He could stay quiet, keep silent, and bottle himself up… but something was stopping him from doing that. “I wanted to believe everything he said, and he was trying to make me, _all of us_ , believe him with his manipulation, which made it easier for me… but on our way here, I was getting more and more unsure.” LeFou paused. “It was when he left me defenseless against the castle that I knew there was no hope to keep hanging onto; that there was no coming back.”

Stanley hummed. “You were in love with him?”

LeFou looked to see the lack of judgement on Stanley’s face and felt warmth bloom inside of him. “I think so. What--whatever it was,” LeFou shook his head, “it was rocky since he left Belle’s father for dead.”

“That was true…?” Stanley asked, surprised, eyes widened and lips parted.

“Yes.” LeFou said shamefully. “And I let him. I supported his… _stupid_ lies. I nearly got people killed.”

Quietness, and then -- “…Do you _still_ feel in -- in love with him? You were childhood friends… Can you ever leave that behind?”

“The feeling is fading now.” LeFou said. “And I think I’m always going to think of him. But not in fondness. Even after -- after death, he’s in a new light to me.”

“Me too.” Stanley was even closer, now, and drew a hand from his side to rest on the wall like LeFou’s. LeFou couldn’t help but notice with a heavy heart (in more ways than one) that their fingertips were a small space away from touching. Stanley, too, was breathing deeply, and LeFou thought that to be strange considering it was not _excessively_ cold. “Every day since then, I’ve thought a lot about how… obedient I was to Gaston.” _Kick_. “And to know how that nearly ended, I don’t want to do that again -- to go charging into a battle with my eyes closed, hurting innocent men and women. A _child_ ,” Stanley grimaced, and LeFou shared how he felt; the image of the young boy who was once a teacup sprang clear in his mind. “What I’m saying is that I’ve decided I’m no henchman to any meathead any longer. I -- I’m not going to fight for things I don’t have less of a clue about. It’s _senseless_ ,” Stanley claimed, getting some groove to his tone, “and I don't think I want a part of it.”

LeFou, not for the first time since Stanley’s appearance in the balcony doorway, was left lost for words with the very things taken right out of his mouth.

“And while I know there are rules to some things like war and conflict and… everyday life,” Stanley’s voice dropped at those two words, “I don’t want to be a sheep. Like what I said before. And -- and our village is safe. It’s small. I don’t think we’ll have trouble for a long, long time, especially not with this...” Stanley waved his hand in the direction of the room inside where a few couples were still dancing, “this reconciliation.”

“Maybe with the homewrecking egg-seller flirting incessantly at the market,” LeFou offered.

“Yes,” Stanley grinned, ducking his head as he chuckled. “There, most likely. I think many women could be perceptible to his charms.”

And again they were smiling, almost like two good friends if it weren't for the atmosphere that LeFou felt crawling under his skin, digging into his being. Burrows were being made as he and Stanley exchanged one long, unblinking look.

Then Stanley closed his eyes, shook his head, took another deep breath and breathed out slowly. “LeFou.” 

“Y--yeah?” LeFou was anything if not unnerved, but not in a bad way. No, he wished he could feel like this forever.

Stanley’s eyes went down to their close hands on the stone wall and so LeFou’s eyes followed. “I…” Stanley’s wavering voice was evident, and he was clearly nervous. LeFou was giving himself a stern talk about not getting his hopes up when Stanley’s fingers moved ever so slightly. At first his index twitched, and then his whole hand was inching forward -- like if he didn’t do anything, his hand would start catching alight -- until it moved, soft and delicate, on top of LeFou’s.

LeFou’s breath caught in his chest, staring at Stanley’s hand atop his as Stanley opened his mouth again. “When I told you that you were different from the women I’ve danced with… that was the truth. This -- this is not some wild gesture to get to somebody else,” he admitted. LeFou looked back up at him. “I… was incredibly afraid when we swapped partners that you would turn me down and leave. Or just refuse me, no matter how many people know of you and your -- your heart’s true affairs. I thought you were too good for me.”

LeFou blinked; never had anyone ever thought that way about him; everybody usually thought that _they_ were too good for _him_. “Why?” LeFou inquired quizzically.

From his peripheral vision, LeFou could see Stanley raise his free hand up, up, _up_ until it reached LeFou’s face; Stanley’s hand rested along LeFou’s jaw, thumb gently moving across the shorter man’s skin, and although LeFou could hear Madame Garderobe begin to belt out another piece of song, he lost every care for everything in the very world he lived in except for this moment.

“You… are a handsome man.” Stanley told him, eyes looking into his and as readable as a book could be if LeFou weren’t illiterate. “Sometimes I can’t take my eyes off of you.” LeFou could feel his face warm up. “The times you performed, the only times I looked away was when Gaston --” _the kick was smaller that time_ , “-- when he demanded attention or I would be demoted in his circle, but I said -- I told you -- I’m not a blind man any more.”

LeFou’s eyes were darting all over Stanley’s face as he felt Stanley’s fingers thread between his own. Breathlessly -- ever so -- and heart pounding, LeFou said, “Neither am I.”

Stanley’s chest was visibly rising and falling with nervous breaths and LeFou was likely the very same. LeFou could feel the taller guy's hand smooth back along his jaw and into the hair that fell around his neck; such a touch sent little fizzles of something white-hot and enamouring through his bones.

LeFou knew what he wanted and also, maybe, he was realising what he deserved for once in his life; with one more heartbeat, he made the final, small step closer and joined his and Stanley’s lips.

To say he was scared and feeling out of his own body would be a large understatement, but as soon as LeFou felt Stanley’s other hand move from the comfort of his own and into his hair and lips move against his, things fell more rightly into place and LeFou felt like a few more things in his small world made sense despite not knowing _what_ , exactly.

Stanley kissed him back like he had been waiting forever to do it, but without overpowering lust; there was no sultriness in the act and, instead, LeFou found it to be tender and caring and everything _opposite_ of what the future that he set up in his mind held for him, which entailed uncaring roughness towards him while he catered uncomfortably to his partner’s every need and whim regardless of whether he was attracted to the person or not.

This -- this was different. In every wacky, _beautiful_ sense of the word.

Both of LeFou’s hands found their way to Stanley’s waist, fingers gently gripping the material of his waistcoat as their bodies became the smallest part closer as they could be; Stanley did the best he could to be in LeFou’s closest proximity and didn’t relent as he kissed passionately but also somewhat shy, like he was just discovering something after initial softness.

“LeFou,” Stanley murmured as they broke apart for merely a second before one of them pulled the other back into the kiss; everything was aflutter in LeFou’s mind and he had no idea how to differentiate when he was so deliciously _content_.

He was going to try so, _so_ hard to not make this the last time this happened.

*¤*.¸¸.·´¨»*«´`»*«´¨`·.¸¸.*¤*

In another part of the castle, although nearby, Mrs. Potts was preparing her son for bed; she ran a brush through his hair as he looked, dreamily, out of the window and to the beautiful courtyard that he had nearly forgotten the sight of through the years of the curse.

“But _Ma_ ,” Chip complained, “can’t I just go down for another few hours? _Pleaaase?_ ”

Mrs. Potts scoffed playfully at her son. “No, Chip,” she smiled at his reflection in the newly cleaned window. “We might all be back to normal now,” she said as Chip grunted as she sorted out a knot in his hair, “but you still have to get a good night’s sleep.”

Chip sighed forlornly, but became silent, eyes still looking out of the window. Mrs. Potts was just about finishing grooming her boy when he piped up again.

“Ma,” he said a little loudly and even with the one word, he sounded confused. He pressed his finger to the window. “What’s happening _there?_ ”

Mrs. Potts frowned and looked out of the window, following her son’s pointing finger; not far from this window, she saw the darling young man who had saved her during the storm on the castle by catching her ( _LeFou_ … was that his name? It seemed certainly uncommon, given its meaning…) and another young man caught in an embrace, hands on each other, possibly kissing; she couldn’t tell, quite, from this angle.

“That’s two people kissing,” she answered her son simply, moving over to set his hairbrush on his dresser.

“But why?” Chip asked curiously. He continued to watch, as most curious children do when they see something unknown. “I thought only a man and lady did that to each other?”

While Mrs. Potts, herself, had traditional views in the past, she always felt like love trumped all no matter what form it took; this was both proven by Belle and the master and now, before her, these two young men. A lot of things were changing in her mind as of late.

“Not always,” she replied. “Love can stir no matter what, my dear. Now, get to bed,” she returned to her son’s side, lovingly placing a hand on his shoulder. “You need to get to sleep.”

“...Okay.” Chip seemed satisfied with his mum’s explanation and quickly scampered to his bed, burying himself beneath the quilt and waiting for his mother to sit beside him.

Mrs. Potts spared one last glance out of the window, watching as the two men parted and shared a look of what really _did_ show that love could be presented in any matter, before moving over to her son to kiss him goodnight.

*¤*.¸¸.·´¨»*«´`»*«´¨`·.¸¸.*¤*

**Author's Note:**

> mrs. potts is the founder of the 'lefou defense squad' and nobody can tell me otherwise.
> 
> also, i haven't written for this fandom before but was enamoured again by the movie -- tell me if i wrote anything OOC. there could be something to prove on if there is a next time! also, i hope you guys liked my version of stanley. constructive criticism for improvement is always appreciated!
> 
>  
> 
> find me on twitter: @Igbtdisney (the first letter is a capital i, not l)


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